


In the Arms of Another

by MisMiz (Jaaaaack51)



Category: The Magnificent Seven (TV)
Genre: Angst, Bad Decisions, Bruises, Heartbreak, M/M, Melodrama, Slash, Unhappy Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1999-09-09
Updated: 1999-09-09
Packaged: 2018-04-26 08:28:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4997839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jaaaaack51/pseuds/MisMiz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Vin runs. Chris drinks. Ezra wants. No one wins.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In the Arms of Another

**Author's Note:**

> Angst. Melodrama. No one knows how to use their words.

Pain led to anger. Anger led to action. Action when he was angry usually led to regret. This was his way. Those were his steps. Right now, Chris Larabee was still working on the first of those steps, waiting for the pain to get swallowed up in anger. The pain would go away then. For a while. The bottle of whiskey sitting on the table in front of him wasn’t helping him along anywhere near fast enough to suit him, though. Grimly, he kept drinking. Sooner or later he’d get there.  
  
The gunslinger sat by himself in the saloon. A dark, brooding figure, surrounded by an almost palpable aura of danger. Even his friends were giving him a wide berth tonight. Giving him time to cool his head down before they "bearded the devil in his den". He’d overheard Josiah saying that to the others. And that suited Chris just fine. He didn’t like sharing his pain. He’d pushed Buck away after the death of his family for that very reason. And Buck had been his best friend. No. The only people he’d ever shared himself like that with had been Sarah and then Vin. But Sarah was dead. And Vin was… gone.

So now Chris was alone with his pain. Like he’d been for so long. Like he’d recently begun hoping he’d never have to be again.  
  
The night wore on and still Chris sat there. Thinking. About what a damn fool he’d been. About how love and friendship could turn so easily to hate and betrayal. All it had taken was three simple words to change everything.

How could he have been so wrong? Made such a colossal error in judgment?

He’d thought the tracker had felt the same way. Felt the soul deep connection that seemed to bind them tighter with each glance, each touch, each day. He'd thought that Vin was also just waiting until they’d wrapped up the loose ends of their old lives before starting anything new.  
  
_I love you_. That’s what Chris had said. He hadn’t meant to say it. Not yet. But they had been sprawled out in front of their campfire, just the two of them. They’d been fishing earlier so the gunslinger’s belly was comfortably full and the fire had taken the chill out of the early autumn air. He’d been as relaxed as he ever got these days, idly staring at the play of shadows on the tracker’s face and the glints of gold and red in his hair. Imagining what it would be like to run his fingers over that skin, through that hair. Feeling as if he’d finally found home again. Then Vin had asked him what he was thinking about to make him smile like that. And, without thinking, his guard down, Chris had told Vin the truth.  
  
Vin had stared at him for an endless minute before jumping to his feet and grabbing the reins of his nearby horse. He’d practically flown into the saddle in his hurry to mount. And except for that first horrified stare, he hadn’t looked at Chris once. Nor did he do so now.  
  
"You shouldn’t have said that, Chris. You just shouldn’t have." Those had been Vin’s last, his only, words before wheeling his horse around and riding off as if he had a bloodthirsty lynch mob hot on his tail.  
  
Chris had remained sitting there, frozen in utter shock, for several minutes after Vin had ridden out. Never in a million years had he envisioned the tracker reacting as he had. Chris had been so certain Vin returned his feelings that he had never considered any other possibility. Pain and humiliation welled up inside him, burning their way through every part of his body. He could feel their bitter taste on his tongue.

He didn’t know where Vin had gone. Wasn’t sure when, or if, he was ever coming back. So Chris had done the only thing he could think of and headed back towards town. Towards the saloon. And woe to anyone who tried to get in his way.  
  
Chris was barely aware of the activity that had swirled around him in the saloon all evening. Didn’t notice as, one by one, his friends left the saloon until only Ezra remained. Wasn’t conscious of the gambler’s green gaze on him. Shaded with a hint of sympathy. Of understanding. Of pain.  
  
All the gunslinger knew was that the anger wasn’t coming. There was only the pain. He didn’t know why. Anger had never failed him before. It had been there when Sarah and Adam died. It had been there when his father disowned him. When his brother had been killed in the war. Why wasn’t it coming now? He needed it. The pain was too much. It was eating into him like acid. Scowling, he took another drink of whiskey.  
  
With each hour that passed, Chris became more and more certain that Vin was never coming back. It was what the tracker would do. Travel light and never look back. Hell, that’s what Chris would have done up until he’d let himself get tangled up in the needs of this godforsaken town. And the needs of the other men. And his own damn needs, most of all. His need for friends. His need for a long haired, blue eyed, ex bounty hunter. Damn it anyway. How the hell could this have happened? Damn that cowardly bastard for leaving Chris to explain everything to the other men. To explain why they no longer had a sharpshooter watching their backs. Why Vin’s sure, steady presence would no longer be guiding their course.

There. He’d felt it. The first flicker of anger. Yes. His breathing eased and slowed. Everything would be so much easier now. He just had to nourish it along a bit. Remind himself of Vin’s betrayal. For that’s what it was. Those soulful blue eyes looking into his. The funny little lopsided grin that he reserved especially for Chris. The honey sweet tone his voice took on when it was just the two of them. Where did he get off looking so horrified? So shocked? What the hell was Chris supposed to have thought?

He didn’t know what the tracker’s game had been. But whatever it was, Chris wasn’t going to play it. He was going to forget all about Vin. Grind his memory into dust.  
  
The gunslinger’s hand tightened around his glass. He wished the tracker were here. So he could kill him. Or fuck him. Or both. Neither. Hell, he didn’t know. He just knew he needed something. Some way to channel the anger into an acceptable form of regret. Where were all the goddamned bad guys when you needed them?  
  
A shadow fell across the table and Chris glanced up, hoping it was trouble looking for a place to happen. Instead, he encountered a pair of emerald eyes, looking down at him with an unreadable expression.  
  
"Go away, Ezra." He growled.  
  
"I am afraid that is impossible. Much as we both might wish otherwise, I have been elected to play nursemaid this evening." The red coated gambler sighed dramatically.  
  
"I said go away if you know what’s good for you. I aint in the mood tonight, Ezra. And I don’t need a nursemaid." Chris’ voice had dropped until it was little more than a deadly whisper. A definite danger sign.  
  
"I beg to differ, Mr. Larabee." Ezra sat down at the table and abruptly changed the subject. "Where’s Mr. Tanner? He is usually to be found lurking in your vicinity."  
  
At those words, Chris felt his rage erupt. He’d tried to warn the gambler. Now, if Ezra didn’t know enough to get out of the way, that was fine by the him. He didn’t much care who he hurt at the moment. He leapt to his feet and grabbed the other man by the front of his jacket. He slammed him back against the bar, relishing his stifled cry of pain. Chris pressed closer, still holding Ezra by his jacket.  
  
"Don’t ever fucking "differ" with me, Ezra. And I aint Vin’s goddamned keeper. You want to know where he is, I suggest you ask him yourself. Got it?" Chris snarled the words, punctuating each one with a shake which banged the other man against the edge of the bar each time.  
  
"Crystal clear, oh fearless leader." Ezra managed to gasp out. His green eyes were full of anger, shame and…desire?  
  
Abruptly, Chris became aware of the heat of the gambler’s body. The scent of his cologne. The intimacy of their positions. He felt a stir of desire in response. But what if he was wrong? What if he was misreading the look in Ezra’s eyes? Like he’d so obviously misread Vin. There was only one way to find out. And if he was wrong, well, he could always shoot the gambler. That way no one would ever know. This bit of grim humor brought a small smile to his lips. He leaned over and whispered in the gambler’s ear, ignoring the curious looks from the few remaining patrons in the saloon.  
  
"I see something else that’s crystal clear. You want to continue this conversation upstairs?" He licked the tip of the other man’s ear as he waited for an answer and felt the gambler’s body quiver against him in response.  
  
"Up the stairs and come into my parlour…" Ezra had regained a bit of his composure when Chris released him and now he stood at the foot of the stairs gesturing grandly upwards as he murmured his invitation.  
  
"Said the spider to the fly." Chris said softly in reply. He wondered for a brief moment just who had been caught in whose web. Then he decided he had better things to think about. Like how he was going to erase every thought of Vin Tanner from his mind if it killed him. How he was going to lose himself in the arms of another. And how he was damn well going to make it worth the regret he knew would come with the morning light. 

He could feel the weight of Ezra's gaze as he ascended the stairs. He found it to be an oddly erotic sensation, knowing what was going to happen once they reached the privacy of Ezra's room. Tonight he wanted no uncertainties. No illusions. Just release, pure and simple. He didn’t know what Ezra wanted out of this. Couldn’t bring himself to care right now. Ezra would have to decide what shape his regrets took on his own time and in his own way.

Chris stood back and let Ezra unlock the door to his rented room. Then he followed the gambler in, kicking the door shut behind him with one booted foot. He quickly locked it, then turned to watch as the other man began pulling off his coat and removing his various guns. As soon as that task was accomplished, Chris reached out, pulling the gambler into his arms and kissing him roughly, demanding a response. With a sound that was half sigh, half moan, Ezra opened his mouth and wrapped his arms around the gunslinger.  
  
Chris licked into Ezra's mouth, biting down on the soft lips. He took note of the slight hitch in the other man's breathing and slid his lips along Ezra's jaw. "So it's like that, is it?" he whispered, running his hands down the gambler’s back. He curved his hands around the other man's hips, thumbs pressing down hard enough to bruise.  
  
Ezra leaned into him, making little moaning sounds in the back of his throat and Chris felt a surge of triumph. He could feel the other man’s erection pressing against his thigh. No uncertainty about that at all.

He released his hold on Ezra's hips and stepped back. "Lose the clothes." he ordered softly. 

He watched as Ezra shrugged off his vest, placing it carefully on the chair by the bed. Too impatient to watch Ezra undo the many buttons on his finely textured shirt, Chris reached out and gave it a quick, sharp tug. Pushing the ruins of the shirt off his companion’s body, Chris stilled Ezra’s automatic protest by biting down hard on the tender flesh of his neck. With a moan, he subsided, digging his fingers into the gunslinger’s back.  
  
Chris was surprised at the warmth of the other man. The gambler’s lips were hot under his and the hands clutching him so tightly felt almost feverish in their heat. He’d always thought of Ezra as cool. Remote. That certainly didn’t describe the man writhing desperately in his arms. He unwound himself from the gambler’s embrace long enough to pull off his own shirt, removing his gunbelt and laying it on top of Ezra's vest. Then he looked at Ezra, who was standing there watching him with an expression Chris couldn’t quite fathom.  
  
"Now the rest of them." Chris indicated Ezra’s remaining clothing. "I want to see what I’m getting." Chris felt a moment’s shame as pain flared briefly in the other man’s face before he narrowed his eyes and began slowly complying.  
  
First, Ezra turned around and bent over to remove his boots, making sure Chris got an eyeful of what he had to admit was a damn fine ass. Then Ezra straightened back up languorously, letting Chris see the play of muscles in his back. 

He turned around again to face the gunslinger, hands lingering near the waistband of his pants.  
  
The gambler lifted one hand and lightly ran it up and down his chest while the other began gently unfastening his pants. Ezra wiggled his hips slightly, sending the pants slithering to the floor. He then stepped gracefully out of them and turned in a slow circle.  
  
"Do I meet with your approval, Mr. Larabee?" The gambler’s husky drawl went straight to Chris's cock.  
  
"Damn you, Ezra." Chris growled before taking two quick steps and sweeping the gambler off his feet and back onto the bed behind him. Ezra lay there looking almost bemused for a moment. Then those emerald eyes began to darken as Chris quickly stripped off his own boots and remaining clothing. The little show Ezra had just put on had made a nice dent in Chris's self-control.  
  
"I fear I already am." The gambler’s soft reply was lost as Chris began laying siege to his body. Kissing, stroking, biting. The other man’s skin felt smooth and warm beneath the gunslinger’s hands and mouth. He found he couldn’t get enough of the feel. The taste. The smell. Brandy and soap and a hint of muskiness. It was nothing at all like Vin and it was something the gunslinger found he was enjoying far more than he’d expected to and far more than he wanted to, even.  
  
The gunslinger rolled them over so that the smaller man was on top of him, raking his fingers down the gambler’s back as he did so. Every moan, every gasp Ezra made fueled his desire. He wrapped his fingers in his companion’s hair, pulling him down for a fierce kiss. He sucked on the exposed neck, traced the ridge of collarbone with his tongue. Then he abruptly flipped back over so that he was once again on the top, covering the gambler with his body. He lightly tweaked a nipple with his fingers and Ezra twitched involuntarily, moaning slightly. Chris did it again, a little harder this time. He then flicked it experimentally with his tongue. The gambler arched his body off the bed. So Chris did it again.  
  
It wasn't until Chris had sucked Ezra's cock halfway down his throat, listening to the strangled groan it produced, that he thought about Vin again, wondering what kinds of sounds he could have wrung from the tracker. He started to pull back but Ezra clutched at his shoulders tightly. Chris would have his own set of bruises come morning.  
  
"Chris. Don’t stop. Please." There was a barely discernible note of vulnerability in the gambler’s voice. Chris felt a rush of tenderness when he heard it. He didn’t know what kind of pain Ezra was trying to forget in his arms but he was suddenly determined to make sure that, for tonight at least, there was nothing but the two of them in each other’s arms. And maybe he would have fewer regrets come morning than he'd thought. Maybe they both would.  
  
Chris pulled back further, reaching out to put a reassuring hand on his companion's leg. "You got anything we can use to..." Chris trailed off as Ezra rolled over to reach into the drawer of the nightstand next to the bed. He withdrew a small bottle and held it out to the gunslinger.  
  
Chris reached out a hand to accept the bottle. Ezra peered searchingly at him for a moment before releasing it.  
  
"I know I’m going to hate myself for asking this. But I’m afraid I need to know." The gambler hesitated for a moment before continuing. "Who will you be seeing when you…when we…?" The usually glib, never at a loss for words, gambler was nowhere in evidence.  
  
"For tonight, there’s just you." Chris answered softly. He hoped it was enough to satisfy his companion.  
  
"Then shall we proceed?" Ezra asked with a twist of his lips. Apparently, Chris’s answer had been enough to fulfill whatever need the gambler had.  
  
Ezra took the bottle back out of the gunslinger’s hands and poured a small amount of the liquid onto his hand before handing the bottle back to Chris. 

Chris gasped as he felt warm hands encircle his erection, smoothing the oil over him. He quickly poured some of the stuff onto his own hands and rubbed some of it onto his fingers. He pushed Ezra back down on the bed and knelt in front of him, easing a finger inside the pliant body. The gambler tensed for a brief moment, then he relaxed, pushing down against the gunslinger's hand. Chris thrust another finger inside, more hurriedly this time. Then another.

"Now. God, now." Ezra tone was half command, half desperate plea. Whatever the case, Chris was only too happy to oblige. He started to slide in slowly but Ezra shook his head. "Harder." Chris tightened his grip on the other man’s shoulders, groaning. He would give Ezra what he wanted. What they both wanted. 

Release, when it came, was hard and fast leaving both men wrung out and sprawled gracelessly across the bed in a tangle of limbs. Chris felt as if all the pain and anger had been drained out of his body along with it. Chris knew those feelings would be back. But for now, all he felt was blessed relief.  
  
They lay there for a minute, both of them panting. Sated. Then Chris silently got up and found a cloth, which he wet in the basin of water on the bureau, before going back and wiping all traces of their activities from the gambler’s body first, then from his own. Ezra didn’t say a word. Just watched him with those green, green eyes and then nodded at the empty spot next to him in quiet invitation.  
  
Chris curled back up on the bed and pulled the gambler close.  
  
"Goodnight, Ezra." he whispered, brushing a kiss across the other man’s cheek.  
  
"Goodnight, Chris." Ezra spoke sleepily. Contentedly.  
  
Chris lay there until he was sure the gambler was asleep. He ran his fingers regretfully over the bruises on Ezra’s back. The ones Chris had put there, slamming him against the bar earlier.  
  
"I’m sorry." He whispered to his sleeping companion. He knew he was apologizing for more than the bruises. He was apologizing for taking this night, knowing it would change nothing. For knowing he would look at the gambler tomorrow as if tonight had never happened. For betraying himself and Vin and Ezra. Apologizing for not feeling more regret about that. Apologizing for pretty much everything it seemed. Ezra deserved better. Chris still didn’t know what kind of pain drove the gambler, but he hoped this one night at least, Ezra had found peace from it. Just as he had. 

But now it was time to go. Time to find his own peace on his own terms, if that was even possible. He thought that perhaps it might be. One day. He had the gambler to thank for that.  
  
Chris quietly crept out of bed and got dressed. He leaned over and gently brushed his lips over Ezra's mouth. Ezra smiled slightly and rolled over in his sleep. Chris took one last look back and then he walked out the door and straight into the arms of Vin Tanner. The echo of the closing door was nowhere near as loud as the sound of hearts breaking.  
  
The End  
  
  
  
  



End file.
